A year has passed

A year has passed
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The note enjoys the steady rhythm of the waves
It doesn’t mind when a storm whips up out of nowhere
In fact it likes to bounce up and crash into the cork
The note thinks the wrinkles and creases give it character
Drawing it closer somehow to a permanent steady home under glass
with a guard or two standing watch

The cork worries itself endlessly over thoughts of failure
Waterlogging or rotting and whatever maladies it can find time to concoct between holding it’s breath before the endless waves and swells

The bottle ,on the other hand, pays no mind to the cork, the note,the wind or the waves
It is after all, just a bottle